


More Important

by inusagi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Dancing, Episode: s02e09 Something Borrowed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:37:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are more important than privacy. Day 31 of the July TW Oneshot challenge (Posted late). Janto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Important

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Still sad about it.

Ianto was nothing if not private. He always had been and joining a top secret organization had done nothing to make him more forthcoming.

In a strange way, he fancied himself more secretive in his personal life than about his job. He’d never been the type to pour his heart out to friends and lovers, had stoically refused to speak to the therapist his parents dragged him to when he’d been caught nicking that pack of Marlboros. He’d always preferred keeping his own council. That _was_ the purpose of a diary, after all.

Even his sister, who still believed he was some vague type of civil servant, hadn’t known about Lisa, let alone Jack. The Torchwood team…well, they only knew because of their own thickheaded inability to knock on doors before walking through them.

He knew it bothered Jack, who for all his secrets and deflections was very much an _open_ sort of bloke. Jack was…tactile. It had surprised Ianto at first, that in his boss’s mind, intimacy seemed to be more about simple touch and affectionate cuddles than about sex. He’d just assumed, from the hundreds of rumors he’d heard and from the tall tales straight from Jack’s rosy lips, that getting off would be the long and short of it.

Ianto knew that’s what the other’s thought, too. He heard them, when they didn’t realize he was there. Owen, especially, had been nothing but clear when it came to what he thought went on behind closed doors. Poor, lovesick Ianto. Gullible Ianto, who didn’t realize that their sex-crazed Captain was just going to shag him and leave him heartbroken.

They’d never believe how _needy_ Jack was, how clingy and starved for affection he’d been since he came back from wherever he’d buggered off to in that damn blue box. They’d never be able to reconcile the image of Jack wrapping his limbs around him in that dark bunker so Ianto had no choice but to stay until the alarm rang at dawn with the man who gave them their marching orders every day. Nor would they entertain the idea that when Jack would sneak down to the Archives midday, it was more likely for a hug or a cuddle than for a blow job or quick fuck.

Half of Ianto’s workdays consisted of fending off warm caresses and not-so-discreet fondling.

But they weren’t _at_ work now. Technically. And really, there was nothing else he should be doing, aside from waiting for the wedding guests to pass out and playing disc jockey.

He wasn’t sure what made his feet shuffle forwards. He could claim that weddings—even ones involving spontaneous full-term pregnancies and carnivorous shape-shifting aliens—made him feel romantic. He could blame the six Jack-and-Cokes he’d had while seeing to the music. He could even rationalize the fact that no one who would see them would remember, aside from people who knew anyway. If he was really honest with himself, he’d admit that he couldn’t watch this…this _moment_ between Jack and Gwen for one second longer.

Regardless of the reason, in that moment, it certainly felt more important than privacy.

“May I...uh…?” he tried, clearing his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Prompt was “privacy.”


End file.
